Life, Love and That Malarky
by missy mee
Summary: Ginny's off to her seventh year after a Dark Lordfree summer. Harry's due to mooch aimlessly round the Burrow for months on end, but he gets a better offer with regards to a certain teaching job.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Jess hereby declares that she makes exactly no profit from this fic (I mean, feel free to send me a few bob but I won't be holding my breath)**

**Full summary: **_**Ginny Weasley is returning to her final year at Hogwarts. Having led a student rebellion the previous year she is more than happy to look forward to a quiet year of being (gasp) really rather normal. Unfortunately, there's still the issue of a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and it just so happens that someone Ginny knows rather well fits the bill**_

**Enjoy!**

Okay, so apparently you're a happier/calmer/more fulfilled person if you write down five great things that have happened to you every single day, no matter how tiny.

Personally I'm not convinced.

However, it's a choice between channelling my insanity into something tangible (i.e. a list) or sitting here in the Hogwarts Express, enjoying a graphic snog flashback, and although I'd certainly prefere the latter, Luna reckons it's inappropriate, because if I start drooling then I might attract something called a Ninkygnat, which infests you and eventually takes over your toes.

Resulting in involuntary toe spasms.

Now I'm scared.

Anyway, that can be thing one - Luna.

I love that girl.

Hadn't seen her for yonks before today, incidentally. The minute old Xenophilius got out of wherever they were keeping him he whisked her off to Siberia to track Snow Snorkacks (a distant cousin of the Crumple-Horned variety, as it happens). But right now she's sitting opposite me humming tunelessly, her eyes crazily wide open. She's actually very pretty, with those milky blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, but most people can't see past the radish earrings.

And she's sort of wearing a necklace made out of paperclips. But that's just Luna, and I happen to like her that way.

So yeah - Luna. Thing one, and a very nice Thing she is too. If slightly bonkers.

Thing two… hmm…

I have an extremely amazing and delightful Thing, which I'm saving for later, like a chunk of chocolate fudge icing.

Yum.

Thing two… aha!

I do believe that Ron is going to pop a certain question to dear Hermy, by which I do not mean 'pass the mustard'.

A slightly more substantial, life-defining sort of question. My inside man (Harry) went with him on a Ring Hunt, which I find hilarious in the extreme, given that Ron's idea of a lovely necklace was pasta on a string. Granted, that was ten odd years ago, but I don't believe his tastes have changed particularly. Granted, he's a dab hand at helping save the world, but jewellery? Just… no.

So yeah, that's a nice thing. If a tad repulsive when I consider the details, which I prefere not to. Marriage would be a confirmation of their… uh…

Carnal relationship.

Excuse me while I vomit noisily in the corridor. Probably onto some hapless first year.

On a happier note, I am seventeen years old, and therefore a big girl. Meaning I can do whatever I want. I honestly haven't felt this sense of freedom since I was little enough to consider running round the garden completely starkers socially acceptable. Which was when I was three, by the way. Not sixteen, as my dear boyfriend optimistically suggested when I forced him to listen to my musings on the subject.

A subject which, now I am on, I can spill my most exciting Thing, which I was saving for last, but hey. I never professed to be the patient type.

I have a boyfriend.

Not just any old bloke, either. I've had those before in abundance, but no. This time, the bar's been upped, fellas.

I, Ginerva Molly Weasley, Queen of Bat Bogies, have snagged the schmexiest man on this beautiful earth, without any contest whatsoever.

O Harry, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways:

1) Your height. Six foot one, the exact right height for it to be necessary for me to stand on tiptoes in order to kiss you, but not so tall that it just looks bizarre. And standing on my tiptoes has an inexplicable charm.

2) Your eyes. Your eyes! YOUR EYES! YOUREYESYOUREYESYOUREYESYOUREYESYOUREYES!!!!!!!!!

3) Hair. V. messy, but very very soft. And sooty black. And in excellent contrast to aforementioned EYES!

4) Your shoulders. I have something of a penchant for broad, strong shoulders (my main attraction to Dean, as it happens), and Harry's are very muscley and solid and strong and broad and I could carry on like this, but if I use any more adjectives I may explode.

5) Your smile - all sort of curly. Which sounds weird, but looks like sex on legs.

Oooh. Legs.

Stop, Ginny. Must not think about legs, as will inevitably progress to what's between them, and then I'll start drooling again. And we wouldn't want that.

But yes. Ten out of ten on the smile front.

6) The slight Messiah thing you've got going on. Like a sexy Jesus.

7) The fact that you eat with your mouth closed, unlike the vast majority of the male population (which I happen to be a damn good authority on, having brothers in excess).

Well. Maybe not excess. One too few, in fact.

There isn't really a word for the empty space that lingers round home. There are days when I just want to throw myself into despair's arms and walk hand-in-hand with it to the place where I can curl up in the ground beside my big brother.

I know the world goes on and the world keeps spinning and so on, but what exactly am I supposed to say when people remind me of that? Ah well, my big brother's gone, but hey, shit happens?

I'm sort of dreading the coach journey. I don't want to be able to see the thestrals.

**Okay, and that's about as angsty as I'm intending it to get, seeing as I plan this fic to be fluff on a stick - not much deeper than the two - dimensional surface that it was written on.**

**So yeah, it looks like I'm back properly. I've stayed away for the most part because let's face it, writing Harry Potter fanfiction is not the coolest things to do with my time. But then I realised I had a plot bunny dying to come to head and I don't really give a toss about my street cred. I want to have some fun and I love writing more than anything. If I'm prepared to write a road safety column for a Korean newspaper then I'm more than prepared to start a new fic.**

**So this is going to span Ginny's entire seventh year - a pretty large scale fic, although probably not as long as my last full length project. I've almost finished chapter three with weekly updates as my intention, and I'm pretty excited. I'm still getting regular reviews for MPSIMP (check it out by all means if you're a first time reader) and I'm looking forward to getting back into it.**

**This was a pretty short chapter, as is the next one, but chapter three is considerably longer and it's going to get rather interesting, I hope.**

**So yes. Do review, I'm hoping to get some positive feedback for this project.**

**Love Jess**

**xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

Thing 1

I cannot believe that they've done such an amazing job of rebuilding the castle! I mean, I knew that they were sorting things out, obviously. Half of my family was helping with the many, many, many repairs that were necessary courtesy of some rather rude Death Eaters who someone stupidly entrusted with wands.

Everything's got the lovely cosy Hogwarts-y glow back, which hasn't really been here since Dumbledore died. The stone walls are golden instead of dull grey and it's very light and bright. As opposed to last year, where it was just… dark. All the time.

But McGonagall looks old suddenly. Can't blame here, if anyone had a shit time last year it was her, because she takes her job so seriously it must have cut her up that she couldn't stop the Carrows hurting us, and she's getting on as it is. But she gave us a warm (if slightly unexpected) smile when she did the annual 'Ah and here we are what a good year we're in for and what fantastic challenges (i.e. NEWTS) lie ahead, etc etc'. Then there was of course the obligatory mention of Harry and his arse whupping of Voldemort (commonly known as Mouldy Voldy now thanks to dedicated mocking from Peeves). Then it was of course off to bed, and now I'm back in my lovely cosy dormitory and it's pounding with rain outside. It always seems to rain on the first day back, which sort of makes me wonder if they do it deliberately. Make it rain, I mean. To make the dorms feel more cosy.

Thing 2

No Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the moment, because McGonagall said there've been a couple of issues sorting out the new bloke. Although this is a bit of a mixed bag considering Defence is my favourite subject, it will mean free periods, ergo extra study time (read - writing to Harry time).

Thing 3

Am going to tea at Hagrid's on Friday, which is brilliant because we haven't had a proper bonding session since before I started dating Harry, and they used to be regular occurrences. I love Hagrid - he might actually be the nicest person in the whole place, and he was virtually my only friend in my second year, because that was when I had no proper friends and wasn't too busy being possessed by the Dark Twat to notice.

_Things continued… I have leapt into the future! Okay, I haven't. I just fell asleep writing last night after I'd run out of Things, but I've got one now so it's okay._

Thing 4

Got a letter from Harry (a.k.a. the Sexpot) this morning, which is about the nicest thing I could read whilst pretending to pay attention in Ancient Runes. I'll stick it in.

_Dear Ginny,_

_How's everything? Hermione just yelled at me to say hi from her and I'm a bit scared of her at the moment. She keeps snogging Ron in front of me and sort of looking like she's really enjoying it, which is deeply disconcerting, so you understand that I'd better do what she says. So I'll say it._

_Hi._

_You've probably worked out by now that yes, Ron and Hermione are back from Australia, sunburnt and hell bent on canoodling as much as is humanely possible. They've got to be inventive in their snogging venues because Mr and Mrs Granger are staying here for the moment. You can imagine where their first point of call is and so I keep walking in on them, and am consequently scarred for life. Don't think I'd mind so much if I had someone to canoodle with myself, but life is rather cruel in that respect. I'm still getting daily death threats from whichever of your brothers is around about what they'll do to various bits of my anatomy if I hurt you. Right now it's Charlie, who isn't so bad. Percy, however, was downright scary._

_So apparently if I ever lay a finger on you I'm dead meat. I could have pointed out that it's a bit late for threats of that nature, but I didn't particularly want to anger them as I happen to value my legs and don't really want them broken. _

_On a more cheerful note your mum just gave me some cake. This is why she is amazing._

_Not much to report at my end other than I'm mooching around the Burrow being a fairly lazy bastard, because your mum won't hear of me lifting a finger to help around the house, like I'm suddenly made of glass or something. Can't move back to Godric's Hollow until Kreacher's done with the repairs, which is bound to take forever and a day considering what a mess Voldemort made. I should have sent him a bill before vanquishing him, it's bloody rude to leave other people's houses in that sort of state._

_Although if I'm really honest I'm not sure I'm ready to go back there yet. I mean, obviously I know I want to relocate there eventually - it's that or Grimmauld Place and Sirius's mum doesn't seem to be the easiest portrait to live with. But I'm not nuts about the idea of harking back to my cupboard days and living on my lonesome. But that's something I'll talk to you about later._

_Speaking of my cupboard days, I went back to visit the Dursleys. Not entirely sure why, must have been some bizarre notion induced by too many Avadas to the head. Anyway, I've realised that now I'm no longer scared of my uncle I can have a brilliant time antagonising. He's got this one vein that just… pulsates. It's a beautiful thing. Sort of hard to explain but one day I'll take you to see them and you'll get what I mean. You'd get the hugest kick out of it. Anyway, they're still their nasty selves, although Dudley's lost a load of weight. Probably too scared of the food being hexed to eat anything for the past year, and luckily he's got plenty of blubber to live off. I showed him your photo and he said you were very pretty, and he's completely right. Naturally I'm a bit panicked about the stiff competition he's offering. My aunt gave me a few old photos of my mum, albeit ungraciously, which was weirdly nice of her. Maybe living with Dedelus Diggle for a year has given her a new perspective._

_Anyway, I must bugger off. I'll be seeing you very soon. I can't say when because nothing's set in stone but it shouldn't be too long. I'm sure you've got better things to do than reading this (like studying, says Hermione. She's reading over my shoulder and when I tell her to sod off she asks me what I'm hiding from her. Damn that girl.) _

_All my love,_

_Harry._

All his love! ALL of it!

Haha. In your face, Romilda Vane!

Ooh, she gave me a poisonous look when she saw me reading my letter, having probably worked out who it was from. She needs a life, that girl. I'm pretty sure she has a shrine to Harry somewhere.

Anyway, Thing 5.

McGonagall said the new Defence bloke is arriving next week, so really we'll only get a few free periods this week and then it's back to work. Ah well, at least I'll pass my NEWTS, therefore Hermione won't kill me and I shall live to snog another day.

Have come to the conclusion that list making, although not particularly useful in terms of its contribution to my emotional wellbeing, is quite soothing. Was discussing this with Lorna and she reckons that obsessive listmaking is a sign of meglomania. She is probably right, but come on. I'm a Weasley. Of course I want to take over the world. And if any of us succeed it'll be me, because I have feminine wiles and can therefore seduce various world leaders.

So har har, Percy!

It's good to have him back, actually. Because I missed him, in a weird way. It sort of helps now Fred's gone.

I miss him so damn much. I didn't just love Fred, I actually _liked _him, whereas I only love Percy, because he's too damned hard to like. Fred was almost a friend first and a brother second, like George and Charlie. Bill and Percy and Ron are brothers first and friends second, which is weird considering I'm actually really close to Ron.

Brothers are ridiculous, they really are.

Hi guys, I know I said weekly updates but I was procrastinating doing my physics homework and this is the result. I'm a wee bit offended - 20 people have put this story on alert but most of them haven't bothered to review. Even old ones from my MPSIMP days glares meaningfully.

Hmm, glaring probably isn't the best way to score reviews, so I'll use bribery instead. Umm… if you review… you have the chance to be presented with some fanfiction-based prized… yet to be specified….

So yeah, thanks to my 8 reviewers. You know who you are and I love you dearly.

Love Jess


	3. Chapter 3

Oh. Good. Lordy.

Went down to breakfast. As normal. There was a weird buzz going round the hall and a weird amount of… giggling, but I was too busy to notice. As normal. Drank orange juice. As normal. Post came. As normal. A big screech owl dropped a note in my lap. Not entirely normal, but not particularly noteworthy (haha - oh, my punning skills).

The note was from Harry (sped up rendition of the Hallelujah chorus because I want to get to the point).

_Dear Ginny, _

_I know you're not the most observant person on the planet before ten, so I'll assume that you haven't realised what's going on and none of your friends are up and therefore can't help you out. I know how lazy seventh years are._

_Well, I don't, but that's beside the point._

_Anyway - not sure how to say/write this so just… look up. And a little bit to the left._

I looked up.

I looked a little bit to the left.

Then I choked.

Harry was sitting at the teachers' table, smiling nervously at me over a forkful of eggs.

Resisting the urge to march over there and hex/snog his brains out, I read the rest of the note. (Okay, resisting is a bit of a fabrication. Lorna arrived and held me down, having assessed the situation with impressive swiftness).

_Hi Gin. _

_You're looking gorgeous today._

_Okay, that's an educated guess, based on the fact that you look gorgeous every day. _

_Please don't kill me._

_So… if you haven't worked it out, and I suspect you haven't, due to your aforementioned slowness in the morning, I'm your new Defence teacher._

_Grovelling commences here:_

_I am SO sorry I didn't tell you, McGonagall wouldn't let me because of 'security issues' which I'm pretty pissed about, as I thought my days of being babysat were over. Anyway, I need to talk to you, so please (with puppy eyes) come to my office at eight this evening (yeah, I have an office. Get me.) I want us to be able to talk properly, although I will see you before tonight. You've got me second period. _

_All my love,_

_Harry_

_xxx_

Oh good lord.

I looked back at Harry, who was giving me his piercing 'Yeah-I-can-see-right-into-you' look.

Yumm.

Even whilst going through a minor emotional breakdown, I can still get lost in those eyes.

On the other hand, I am pissed beyond belief, and a certain Boy Who Lived And Then Got Nearly Killed But Lived Again Having Bounced Back Like A Bouncy Ball has hell on a stick to pay.

**Five reasons why it's insane for Harry to be a teacher:**

1. He's eighteen years old. Yes, he defeated the Dark Lord and is the saviour of the wizarding world and so on, he still finds fart jokes funny.

2. Good looks + hero status make him a girl magnet, and I refuse to let Romilda Vane get her mucky paws on him. Yes, he's a teacher, but we're teenage girls. That rarely stops us lusting. Not that I'd know, having had no particularly sexy teachers.

3. He hasn't even taken his stupid NEWTs. How come they're letting him teach?

4. Everyone will assume that I only get decent grades for shagging the teacher. Which isn't even true. But everyone will assume it is and I will be know throughout the school as Professor Potter's (eek, that sounds weird) pet/whore. Pet whore.

5. I'm fairly sure it's against the law for teachers to snog their students.

Better go. McGonagall's nostrils are flaring so much I'm worried they might rip.

**Later**

Well. He may be in the Doghouse of Ginny, but Harry's lesson was fantastic. Which isn't a huge surprise seeing as he's always been a great teacher. But still. Damn good show.

He strode in all confident-looking and shoulder-y and gave me a tiny, secret smile as he passed, then sat down on his desk and waited for everyone to shut up, which they did with previously unheard-of quickness.

Being a well-known vanquisher appears to up people's respect for you, somehow.

Then he went 'Hi everyone, my name's Harry Potter." He didn't even say this ironically. It's the sweetest thing. He's saved the world and is just generally famous, yet he still introduces himself to people as if they've never heard them before.

"I'm going to be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year," he carried on. Again, stating the obvious, bless his heart. "I recognise a few of you from DA meetings, which is great. And obviously I've seen most of you around. Which is sort of the obvious, as I've been in the same school as you for five years."

Oh dear, he was babbling.

"Anyway. It's going to be a tough year for all of you, and you're really going to have to work, especially if you haven't had the benefit of practising in the DA. You've had a string of awful teachers, a couple notwithstanding, and frankly I'm amazed that you got through your OWL with an acceptable mark." Very blunt, but not necessarily a bad thing.

"However, all of you passed, which is the main thing, so maybe we don't need to panic just yet. A very rough outline of what we're going to do this year is focus on honing our duelling skills, with everyone working at their own pace. Obviously, learning how to duel well isn't such a massive imperative this year, but the threat of danger doesn't just go away and you do all need to be prepared in the event of an attack."

He got up from his desk and sort of paced around, looking rather fired up and manly, and really quite edible. I saw Mary Broadbent checked out his arse.

I pointed my wand at her head and very quietly muttered a static charm. Oh dear, their goes her perfectly coiffed do. What a shame.

I'm ninety nine percent sure Harry noticed, but he didn't say anything.

Anyway, with my work done, I settled back for some serious ogling. Which was rudely interrupted when Lorna nudged me and told me under her breath that I was smiling crazily and she couldn't tell the difference between me and Luna across the aisle. Harry pounced on her and fixed her with a teacherly stare.

"Care to share it with the rest of us, Miss Bartlett?"

Lorna started, then grinned at me meaningfully. Harry saw the look and lost his cool slightly, flushing and mumbling 'Save it for later' as she opened her mouth to answer.

"Anyway!" He clapped his hands suddenly, making everyone jump, "I thought we'd start on the really properly _basic_ basics, so I can see where you really are. I'm not planning on going on what your former teacher left in her fairly sparse notes. Partly because the spelling is atrocious to say the least," A dark look crossed over his face, presumably thinking back to his one meeting with Carrow. Probably not because of the spelling.

"So! Basics! The gist! The nub! The heart of the matter!" He barked. I'm certain he'd had too much coffee this morning, and Harry doesn't respond well to chemical stimulants. "What is Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

Everyone stared at him like he was nutters. I mean, come on, Harry. We've been doing Defence Against the Dark Arts for six years, I think we know…

Hang on. Everyone's shuffling and looking away.

Not a hand up.

Damn. I hate long, awkward silences in lessons. They drive me slightly insane and make me do things that I'll later regret.

Like contribute.

Harry nodded at me when I raised my hand as innocuously as possible. Urgh, I feel like such a Hermione. His face was as detached as if I were any other student, and for a moment I panicked. _Was _I just any other student? Am I just going to his office tonight so he can break up with me because he can't be involved with one of his pupils, even though we've been together since he was sixteen?

Then I realised that the warmth that he always had in his eyes when he looked at me was still there, as ever, and banished the thought quickly. Stupid Ginny, Harry loves you, and you know it. I can read those eyes like a large-print edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

"Um… Defence Against the Dark Arts is… defending yourself?"

Harry nodded encouragingly. "Yes…?"

I raised my eyebrows slightly, and his raised his too, just a fraction. Mocking me. Damn him. As far as I was concerned I'd said my bit, but apparently not.

"Defending ourselves, yes, but what against?"

Damn him. Damn him to pieces.

"Erm… the Dark Arts?"

Harry leaned against the desk and smirked at me, "The Dark Arts being?"

Okay, now he was doing it deliberately. Great boyfriend, making me feel like an utter prat in front of my NEWT Defence group. But then he gave me another smile (not a secret one, but delectable nonetheless).

"I'm trying to make you think, Ginny. Humour me?"

A couple of girls at the back tittered, obviously at his use of my first name. Any sign of familiarity between the two of us was due to be distorted along the grapevine until we were going at it like bunnies on the desk in front of everyone. I ignored them.

"Um…" I was starting to sound like a stuck record, "Any spell that's being used for a Dark purpose?"

Harry bashed his fist on his desk, making us all jump.

"Excellent!"

Okay, how much coffee did he _have_?

He swung round suddenly and pointed at Martin McCulloch (some boy in Hufflepuff. Unfortunate teeth.)

"And why was that such an excellent answer?"

Poor Martin blanched, looking petrified.

"Er…"

Poor Harry. He genuinely doesn't realise that his being the BWL/Saviour of the Wizarding World scares people shitless. He seemed to work out the McCulloch was practically pissing himself, because he leaned forward and said in a really friendly, encouraging voice, "Think about what Ginny said. What do you think was the key point that she made?"

McCulloch blushed.

"Um… any spell?"

Harry smiled at him.

"Exactly. Spot on. Five points to Hufflepuff."

He started pacing again.

"Think about it, guys. One of the first things that you learn in your first year Charms class is Wingardium Leviosa, right?"

A few nods from around the classroom.

"Fairly harmless spell, right?" More nods. Harry stopped pacing and turned to face us.

"No. Not right. Wrong."

He sat back down on his desk, making eye contact. Lots of eye contact.

"If I decided that I wanted to levitate Miss Bartlett here," he jerked his head at Lorna, "Then shrank her, alohamora-ed the window, levitated her out and just - let her go."

He smiled grimly at us.

"Squish. Dead. Gone."

Getting up, he started to pace once again.

"What I'm trying to say (probably not very articulately) is that you can't define the Dark Arts. You can't stick them in a box, put a label on it and think 'okay, that's that, that's all we need to worry about'. It's just not that simple. I'm prepared to bet that maybe eighty percent of what you learn here could potentially be used for a Dark purpose. If I were duelling with a Death Eater - say Bellatrix Lestrange, were she not firmly six feet under," he sounded rather venomous at that point, ""Then she might use a cutting curse on me. But that's the same spell your mum might use to cut up vegetables. Same spell, different contexts. Different employments, different decisions. How you _use _the spell," he sat back down on his desk - I was starting to feel slightly nervous from all his sitting and standing - "Is more important than the spell itself."

A few Ravenclaws were taking notes, but most people were just listening respectfully. I don't know if it's the impressive reputation or just his general demeanour, but discipline's somehow not a problem for him.

"So," he carried on, suddenly looking a bit less fired up and a bit more boyish, "I've got no real plan for this lesson. I was sort of hoping that we could have an incredibly intelligent discussion on the nature of the Dark Arts, but I have a feeling that not everyone here finds that idea as fun as I do. So first off I'll tell you a bit about this year's course, and then we'll just see what we feel like doing after that."

That was the point when he looked up and saw me scribbling away.

"Miss Weasley, pay attention, please."

Gah. Told off by my own boyfriend.

**Okay guys, first of all I'd like to say how incredibly chuffed I am. My reviews QUADRUPLED in the space between my last update and now, so I'm guessing my little plea worked. Big thanks to everyone who reviewed, or has put this on their Story Alert or Favourites list.**

**Thanks to Shot in Sarajevo for the feedback about 'fangirlishness'. I think that that will be countered in the next few chapters when the two of them interact one on one as equals.**

**But thanks so much, love my reviewers. I also love reviews (hint hint). Do review this chapter, it's long and I'm really quite pleased with it.**

**Love Jess**

**xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

So Harry went on to tell us how he was sorry but due to the crap teaching we've been on the receiving end of for the past six years he was going to have to consolidate the most basic stuff before we got onto the cool stuff that isn't on the Ministry-approved syllabus. He also promised to do Patroni was us at some point, and he'd try to organise some kind of duelling competition for us before Easter. Bless him; he's making a hell of a lot of effort, which is just quintessential Harry. He gets a kick out of helping people – basically he's a born teacher.

Anyway, for the last ten or fifteen minutes of the lesson (which went weirdly fast. Time flies when you've got a Sex God to drool over) he just let us ask random questions in the hope that if people got it out of their systems at the beginning of the year people would get over the whole vanquishing thing. Like stuff like that dies down in a week. The questions were mainly about the Final Battle (capitalised!) and therefore a load of stuff about Horcruxes and Love Prevalent and all that jazz. I could have sworn he glanced at me at that point, but I don't think anyone noticed. I'm not quite sure what the deal is – obviously everyone knows we were involved in sixth year (you'd have to have had your head in the lake not to know, because the school Gossip Mains went apeshit) and then there was our whole joyous reunion last April. The whole school sort of saw (and heard) that conversation, my complete set of brothers included, so I think any attempts to deny our relationship would be a touch on the futile side. Still, I'm not exactly planning to advertise the fact that I'm snog buddies with my DADA teacher. And like I said, I don't want people thinking he favours me or anything.

Not that there's much risk of that, considering the long-yet-humourous bollocking he gave me for writing in his lesson. Something along the lines of the fact that he knew he was a boring old fart, being all of a year older than me, and he was going so senile that he didn't expect anyone to absorb a word he said, but he had friends (i.e. McGonagall, who LOVES him now he cursed Carrow for spitting at her) in high places, and if I didn't prick my little ears right this second there'd be hell to pay from the Headmistress.

So yeah. Favouritism wouldn't appear to be a danger.

Going back once again to the whole question time thingy, he told us the edited version, the one he told to the press and is due to go down in history, which glosses over the fact that he was the seventh Horcrux and skimming lightly over most of his role in the thing. That boy is modest to the point of its being silly. I wish he'd give himself a bit more credit, but that's just the way he is and it's unlikely to change in a hurry.

He touched my arm lightly as we were filing past his desk on the way out and murmured 'See you later?' in my ear, with a question in his voice. I gave him a tiny nod and a not-so-tiny smile, then hoisted my bag up on my shoulder and buggered off to Muggle Studies.

Having no clue whatsoever what I want to do when I leave Hogwarts, I basically just picked the subjects I'm okay at to do for my NEWTs, which are Defence (obviously), Transfiguration, Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes. I wish my ideas about what I want to be were as clear cut as Harry's, or even Ron's. They've both had a proper career in mind since they were fourteen, and here I am still faffing about at seventeen. The only thing I'm really good at is Quidditch, and what are the chances of actually having a career in that? I was talking about it with Lorna, and she pointed out that I probably don't really need a career. Because I'm with Harry. And that sort of scared me a bit.

Not the fact that I'm banking on my future and Harry's being one and the same, because I know right now that I'm going to marry him, and I daresay I'll be popping out a few Potter sprogs to boot. We're not engaged or anything, but only a wimp lets that sort of detail get in the way. And hey! I'm a modern girl! If Harry doesn't get the balls together to ask me then I'll damn well ask him, and he's too polite to say no. That's really not what I'm worried about.

I'm worried about living to sponge off Harry, forever spending his money and being snapped holding his hand and being Girlfriend Ginny Weasley in brackets. And I'm even more worried about the fact that I could probably get used to that, and spend my days shopping with his money and being his plus one when he gets invited to swanky Ministry events. Then at forty five I'll realise that yes, I have a loving husband and a host of gorgeous green eyed children, but ending up wondering what the hell happened to Ginny Weasley as opposed to Mummy Potter. And I can convince myself that I'm not the type to ever take the back seat so the chances of that happening are nil, but seriously, if I don't knuckle down and establish at least a vague sense of where I'm going then that's the path I'm due to head down. And quite frankly that thought scares the shit out of me.

On a lighter note, Muggle Studies was a blast. It's nice to have the biweekly doss back after a year of 'Kill the Muggle vermin!' We basically read the odd copy of _The Sunday Times _and watch endless episodes of this American sitcom, Friends, which is a scream. I thought British muggles were bonkers, but this lot literally just sit around drinking coffee, snogging, agonising over snogging and tripping over things, all the time being bizarrely skinny and attractive. It's high class entertainment, honestly.

However, I was finding it a bit difficult to concentrate during Muggle Studies, even though I think someone on Friends was pregnant, and agonising over it. Whilst tripping over things. I couldn't concentrate because I was sort of pondering whether or not I ought to be pissed at Harry. I mean, he turns up here without any notice and suddenly is a teacher with an amazing line in secret smiles, and he's an authority figure as opposed to Just Harry. Just Harry being the guy I happen to be in love with.

And after much ponderage (pronounced ponder_ahje, _dahling!) I have in fact come to the conclusion that no. I am not indeed pissed at Harry.

Yes, some warning would have been appreciated. But Harry, we must remember, is a boy-type-thing, and therefore obnoxious by default. Probably Hermione was too busy doing God-knows-what with my brother to inform him (Harry, I mean, not Ron) that as a girl-type-thing I would have appreciated a heads up, as that would have provided me with time to do things like wash my hair, and put on the charm bracelet he gave me for a belated birthday present (which I don't wear every day because I'm afraid of losing it).

But most of all I'm not pissed with him because I know somewhere deep-ish down that he would probably give up this job if I asked him to, which is stupid. Because this job clearly makes him really happy, and I want him to be happy. Because I sort of love the guy.

**Heehee. Thanks for all my shmexy reviewers (61! For 3 chapters! Not bad, dahlinks)**

**BTW, Lorna is not Luna. She is a different person.**

**HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!**


	5. Chapter 5

I knocked on Harry's door after dinner, which he hadn't been at. Mum'll have kittens if she hears he's not eating, which is why I'm not going to tell her. Because a) Harry dislikes Fuss, and b) He probably forgot to eat, because that's the kind of thing he does. Now Voldemort's gone he's swapped his brooding for contemplation, and that makes him forgetful.

Anyway, I nipped down to the kitchens before going up to get him some crumpets with honey, because he likes them. And also because I don't want a boyfriend who's skinnier than me.

So he called for me to come in, so in I went, holding the crumpets and feeling like something of a prat.

He was sitting behind his desk with his trainers up on it, looking a bit daydreamy and starry-eyed. His face lit up as I walked in, and I admit to my heart's doing a weird flippity thing, like Arnold on a sugar high.

"Ginny!"

He got up and hugged me, and I just stoof there, breathing him in. I'd planned on saying something witty by way of greeting, but when it came to it I didn't feel like it. Just wanted to melt into him and enjoy the calm he gives me. For such an awkward person in general he gives fantastic hugs.

"Am I in the doghouse?" he murmured into my ear, his hand snaking (Ginny's punning skills strike again! You know, because he's a Parselmouth? Har har? Never mind.) around my back and gently grasping a lock of my hair.

"Incredibly," I mumbled. Didn't feel like going into the ins and outs of exactly why I'm not pissed at him, so decided that sarcasm was the best option. And how _could _I be pissed off with someone who smelt so damn good? I tried to quirk an eyebrow at him and failed miserably. Eyebrow gymnastics aren't a strong point of mine. He laughed and kissed me hard on the mouth, then successfully quirked his own eyebrow (damn him!) looking sort of... boyish. Which is a fairly rare occurence for Harry, as the way his face falls is really quite serious looking. He is quite a serious person, in my opinion. Or maybe he's just spent his whole life in situations which require seriousness. Dunno. Must make him laugh more, either way.

Then the thing that I've been panicking over all day broke through my Harry-induced fuzzy feeling.

"You won't get sacked for kissing me, will you?"

"Nope!" His voice was unusually buoyant as he led me over to an armchair and sat down, pulling me into his lap, "Turns out McGonagall's more open minded than you might assume."

I was a bit distracted at this point, as the second half of his sentence was punctuated with a series of light kisses trailed along my jaw, but I managed to pull away (Prize for loin-girding goes to Ginny Weasley!) and told him in no uncertain terms that I refused to engage in a touch of wanton nooky with him whilst discussing Professor McGonagall, as it's deeply unnerving.

Apparently when he brought the whole Us thing up with our glorious Head she looked pointedly out of the window and said loudly 'What I hear you saying, Mr Potter, is that you will conduct yourself with utmost decorum and professionalism in your interactions with any students under your instruction.'

Whilst winking.

Who knew the old stick was so cool?

Having enlightened me on this score, Harry proceeded to snog me in earnest for an extended period of time, which I enjoyed greatly. Then he gave me a ginger biscuit because he knows how much I like them. Then we snogged some more.

During various interludes in the snoggage (pronounced snog_gahje, _dahling!) he explained to me that before the Aurors start recruiting to make up their lost numbers they want to deal with the more immediate threat of any escaped Death Eaters (who are hiding all over Britain, according to Kingsley), which means that anyone qualified to teach is off hunting ugly masked blokes, leaving Harry at a loose end. He hasn't got his NEWTs yet, but he says he's taking his DADA one some time in the next few weeks, and sitting the rest of his NEWTs at the same time as us. Slughorn, Flitwick, McGonagall and Sprout and all giving him tutorials in the evening so he's up to speed with the year he missed, but he's going to have his work cut out for him. Which leaves little time for snogging/pleasing picnics with him hand feeding me prawn sandwiches whilst I laugh tinkilingly whilst wearing a nice white sundress. Damn.

We'd enthusiastically resumed our previous occupation when someone banged loudly on the door, then barged straight in without waiting for a reply. I shrieked and hopped off Harry's lap with impressive efficiency, and before the door had fully opened Harry had leapt up and sent an apologetic smile and a Jelly Legs Jinx at me. I blocked it without thinking, and it ricocheted off my shield and out of the open door.

Slughorn was standing in the doorway, dressed in a hideous green velvet waistcoat and looking a bit alarmed.

"Excellent progress with your Shield Charm, Miss Weasley," Harry said in a weirdly teacherly voice, giving me what I'm sure he thought was a professional smile. I caught on quickly and nodded, trying to look vaguely meek, "Can I help you, Horace?"

Slughorn smiled benignly and replied in his tweedy, braying voice, "Oh, I was just wondering if you fancied a nightcap, old chap." His eyes swept over me, lingering on the tell-tale messed up hair and rumpled clothes, "But I can see you're busy."

He winked conspiritorially at me at both of us in turn and left. I could hear him puffing down the corridor as Harry let out a breath.

"I think he's grooming me to become one of his 'contacts'," he said darkly, running a hand through his hair (girlish giggles all round).

"I reckon you ought to consider it," I told him seriously, "Think of all that free crystallised pineapple."

"You make a fair point," he replied, smirking at me, "But there's a wee snag. I couldn't bear to end up a crashing bore like him."

"No chance of that," I said in what I sincerely hoped was a husky, seductive voice, "But Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me you'll never get a waiscoat like that."

I stayed in his office until ten thirty, which was probably very inappropriate and bad of me, but I was too busy enjoying his cuddles and company to care. Eventually he told me to go to bed, because he'd be working us hard in Defence tomorrow (last thing, after Double Charms). He scribbled me a note in case one of the prefects started channelling Snape and booked me for prowling about after dark. I was disgusted by his excuse (remedial tutition) but took the note anyway and buggered off to Gryffindor tower after a fairly prolonged farewell.

Lorna, Carrie and Lizzy were all up waiting to grill me when I got back to the dorm, and pounced the second I walked in.

"Why didn't you tell us he was coming to teach here?"

"Does McGonagall know about the two of you?"

"Isn't it a bit _weird _to be taught by your boyfriend?"

I just grunted something along the lines of 'Fnurgle' which is Tired Ginny for 'I'll tell you later, now sod off and let me sleep, you cretins.'

Surprisingly, they did let me.

**Nice LONG chapter!**

**I find myself in the possession of a potential beta, but I haven't heard from her so I'm posting this anyway. I'm still in the very early stages of chapter five so don't expect it for about a week, but it is coming.**

**Anyway, please review :) I do love them so. Thanks very much for all your support and critique, I do love a good review.**

**I've got a one-shot brewing which I'm offering as a prize for the longest, funniest, most analytical review. I've had it for ages so leave me a nice review and I might just dedicate it to you. I know it's not a great prize but there's only so much one can do on a fanfiction website.**

**Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! **

**Love Jess**


	6. Chapter 6

Gah, got so caught up in describing the whole Harry thing yesterday that I forgot about my poor, darling, neglected Things. And I happen to have one particularly excellent and amusing Thing to impart.

I got an owl this morning.

Okay, that's a lie, Harry got it. Hardly the point, because there was a note for me enclosed, which he slipped to me in the corridor, smirking.

I read it in Muggle Studies and embarressingly enough, burst out laughing.

Here it is.

_Dear Ginny, it's Hermione (and Ron!)_

_Yes, we're writing you a joint letter. We thought it was only fair considering we wrote one to Harry. Granted, we could have just told him to pass the news onto you, but we wanted to tell you personally. Okay, this isn't _quite _personally, but it's not too far off. _

_Might as well spit it out, really._

_Which isn't quite accurate, because we're writing, not speaking._

_But that's not important._

_THIS is the important bit._

_We're getting married. _

_Dunno when, dunno where, dunno why... hang on, that's not quite true. We know exactly why. Didn't want Krum do get there first._

_Ha ha._

_Anyway, yeah. Not quite sure what to say to you, because we're both bouncing off the walls with happiness. Not literally. _

_Will write properly soon,_

_Love Hermione (and Ron!)_

_P.S. Sorry, forgot the obvious question. Fancy being maid of honour?_

_Love H (and R!)_

I literally couldn't stop laughing, but fortunately we were watching Friends again and someone had tripped over (oh har har), so that served as a cover-up.

So yes. My littlest (agewise, not heightwise) big brother and Hermione.

No one saw that one coming.

Harry was a bit hyper again in Defence, and went onto a random rant about how trolls can lead to interesting series' of events and therefore we should always stick our wands up their noses and not pay proper attention in Charms.

I don't think a single person in the room knew what he was talking about.

**Thing 2**

Sausages for brekky

**Thing 3**

I am Quidditch captain! Okay, I've known that for ages, but for all I know you might be interested.

Hang on, you can't be. You're a diary. Of the non-Horcrux persuasion.

Anyway, I would like you to go forth (not literally. You're not animated. And you don't have legs) and let it be known that Ginny Weasley has a mistress plan for the winnage (pronounced winnAHJE, dahling!) of the Quidditch Cup.

Okay, that's a filthy lie. I don't have a bloody clue.

I think I may be stuffed. Wrote to Ron under the pretence of congratulating him on his upcoming nuptials to the Hermster, but that was just a clever ploy to ask him what the hell I ought to do. Doubtless he'll write me a novel in return.

One is concerned, for one has no Seeker, or Chaser, or Keeper. Ergo one is a wee bit fucked teamwise.

So yes. That's not REALLY a nice Thing. Silly Ginny, what were you thinking? Don't think about your captaincy, you'll only get depressed. And that's fair. It's a depressing subject.

**Thing 4**

I'm getting a bit stuck for ideas now.

**Thing 5**

I know! Amusing interview with Harry in the Daily Prophet. He's done a sort of deal with them - he grants them an exclusive interview twice a year and they pretty much leave him alone the rest of the time. Anyway, I'll stick it in.

_**For reasons that you would have to have had your head buried firmly in the sand for the last seventeen years not to know, an interview with Harry Potter is rightly considered the Holy Grail among journalists, so sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Harry Potter with a couple of pints of butterbeer is a truly surreal experience. Potter, who is well known for his terse previous dealings with the press, comes as a surprise, as I find his relaxed and cheerful, and incredibly enough, quite normal. Following his defeat of Lord Voldemort (Come on, it's just the name of a dead bloke, Potter insists), the man hailed as the saviour of the Wizarding World disappeared from the public eye for several months, only to resurface last week as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. **_

_**"Before anything else, I needed to spend time with the most important people in my life and sort myself out after a year on the run," he explains. **_

_**Orphaned at the age of just one, Harry Potter knows better than most the importance of valuing his loved ones, particularly his oldest and closest friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, both 18. **_

_**"They're two of the most amazing people in the world," Potter states with bashful sincerity in reference to Weasley and Granger, "There were more times than I could count that I'd just have given up if it weren't for the two of them - this victory really belongs to them. I won't say any more because they'd probably get embarressed, but the fact that they stuck by me. even though they didn't have to, is just incredible, and I couldn't ask for better friends."**_

_**Potter, having recently celebrated his eighteenth birthday, has stopped off for a year-long teaching stint at Hogwarts before (hopefully) heading off to the prestigious Auror Academy.**_

_**"I've wanted to be an Auror since I was fourteen," he says simply, "It's all I've ever wanted to be."**_

_**Known for his inherent modesty and underlying shyness, it's nearly impossible to coax Potter into discussing his tremendous feats of recent months, much less his personal life. He is particularly cagey with regards to his relationship with gorgeous redhead Ginevra Weasley, who he has reportedly been seeing on and off for the past eighteen months. Miss Weasley, 17, is believed to be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Potter's student, sparking rumours that their relationship has been put on hold. Potter, however, declines to comment. **_

_**He is, however, eager to discuss the overwhelming response of the students and teachers of Hogwarts in April's call to arms, in one of the greatest battles that the wizarding world have ever witnessed. **_

_**"They're the ones who deserve to go down in history, definitely not me," he insists, "Their bravery and sacrifice was incredible."**_

_**Potter is equally fervent in his defense of his much-slammed relationship with the late Albus Dumbledore, defeater of the dark wizard Grindelwald and widely considered to be the the greatest Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever known, as well of the greatest wizard of his age (although this title may be usurped in popular opinion by Potter himself). **_

_**"He was a headmaster, a mentor and a friend to me," he states, flatly denying that their relationship was in any way 'unhealthy', as alleged by author and journalist Rita Skeeter. "Any other claim is a complete lie."**_

_**Potter publicly slammed Skeeter's biography - The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore - calling it 'A bag of lies and half-truths at the very best, and about as reliable as directions from a senile Hinkypunk'. **_

_**Skeeter is due to release another biography - this time of Potter himself - in the new year. Potter appeared more amused than angered by the news of this publication.**_

_**"I don't know where she's going to get her sources from, but she'll be pushed to find out anything about my childhood," he laughs, "My relatives would rather shoot themselves than discuss me or anything to do with me. It should be an interesting read."**_

_**Potter refuses to elaborate further on the circumstances surrounding his childhood - rumoured to have been a troubled one at the hands of his late mother's muggle relations. He was believed to have been placed with them at the direction of Dumbledore himself for reasons that were never fully explained. **_

_**He moves swiftly on from the subject to recently announced Ministry plans to immediately capture and detain all remaining supporters of Lord Voldemort, and applauds Acting Minister Shacklebolt for his swift response to this issue. He's also a strong advocate of the Wizengamot's decision to remove all dementors from Azkaban.**_

_**"It's the best thing that could have happened to the wizarding world," he enthuses, "And a step in the right direction for a much better society."**_

_**For a man claiming to be politically inactive, Potter has strong opinions about how the Ministry of Magic could be reformed, although he immediately dismisses any suggestions that he might enter into politics himself.**_

_**"I've been on the recieving end of some terrible moves by the Ministry, and yes, I have opinions on it, but that's all," he shrugs, impressively nonchalant in his reference to the fact that this time last year Potter was named Undesirable Number One by the corrupt Thicknesse administration.**_

_**"I want to put all that behind me," he explains, "It's a new day now."**_

It was a pretty good article, actually, and very Harry in the way that he dodged any personal questions and waxed lyrical on how brilliant other people are. He says he wasn't any near that eloquent, and the reporter edited out all of his 'erm's.

What DOES annoy me, however, is that they referred to me as 'gorgeous redhead'. A) Because I don't particularly like people calling me gorgeous (unless it's Harry, in which case I melt into a big pile of Ginny-Goo and b) WHY must people always describe me by the colour of my hair?

Oh well. It's better than Ginger Gin, I suppose.

**Okay, well. There it is**. **It'll start to get a bit more serious in the next chapter, and the plot'll kick in then as well.**

**Big thanks to all my reviewers - I now have 98 reviews.**

**Let's make it 100, shall we:P**

**To invisible flower - I would have sent this to you for beta-ing, but I'm going away for the weekend in about an hour and I wanted to get this posted before I leave.**

**Love Jess**

**xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

Bollocks.

Is all I've got to say.

Shit on a stick.

Crappy, crappy news, and I'm getting deja vu.

Daily Prophet article:

**Azkaban Breakout Revives Old Fears**

_**Rodolphus Lestrange, husband of the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange (deceased) has evaded Azkaban officials whilst awaiting trial for his numerous crimes and is now at large. Believed to be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's highest-ranking follower to have escaped the Final Battle, Lestrange escaped his cell at some point during the early hours of this morning. Lestrange poses a serious threat to both Wizarding and Muggle society, and any sightings should be reported to the Auror Office immediately. Meanwhile, Acting Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt has come under fire for his decision to remove the Dementors from Azkaban.**_

_**"Even in the face of this problem I retain faith in this decision," Shacklebolt insisted in a statement made this morning, "All our resources are being channelled into detaining Voldemort's remaining followers, and Lestrange is now our number one priority, and an inquiry is being carried out as to how Lestrange was was able to escape. The matter is being treated with utmost seriousness and we ask the public to remain calm.**_

_**At the news of this crisis, the Wizarding World is now looking to the Boy Who Lived to speak out against the lax security in Azkaban, although he has as of yet remained silent.**_

I didn't even realise Lestrange was still alive! I'd assumed he'd been killed and was now rotting in hell with his evil bitch of a wife. Oh God, this is crappy news.

I was panicking about it all through Charms - I'd got Defence second period and Harry was sure to be in a foul mood. Sure enough, when he walked in he had a face like thunder and immediately asked if anyone fancied a duel, because he seriously needed to hex something.

Shockingly enough, no one was up for it, so he had to settle for blowing up his desk, which I think calmed him down a bit. Then he told us that we were doing shields (snore) today, and the first person to produce a shield strong enough to deflect his stunning spell got thirty house points. Unfortunately we're not too great at shields, so a lot of people got knocked out, which got him pissy at us. Which isn't like him, so the Lestrange thing was clearly getting to him. I really wanted to go and talk to him in the evening, but he had a lesson with Slughorn, so I couldn't. Instead, I rashly promised to meet him at six tomorrow morning for walkies round the lake before brekky.

Stupid, stupid Ginny. You know you're not a morning person.

Amazingly, I made it up in the morning (okay, I charmed my alarm clock to poke me incessantly, so I now have tiny bruises all over my back, but I don't think that that diminishes my victory even in the slightest).

Harry was waiting for me in the Entrance Hall, looking like he hadn't slept. Probably because he hadn't.

He says he feels crappy because he's not allowed to go and search for Lestrange with the Aurors, because McGonagall wants him here in case Lestrange tips up. Which, he grudgingly admitted, makes sense, that people might feel safer when the guy who vanquished Mouldy Voldie is around.

What I hadn't realised, and what he pointed out, is that it's also bad news for my family, because of mum having been the one to kill his wife and everything. For all we know, Lestrange is out to wreak revenge. Which means Mum and Dad have decided that all of us (that means Bill, Fleur, George, Percy, Ron and Hermione) are all moving into Grimmauld Place (Harry Flooed to offer it to them as soon as he heard). Which shouldn't really be so bad now that Kreacher's turned into quite the domestic goddess.

Anyway, potential threats on our lives aside (and trust me, you get used to those after a while) Harry and I had a very nice walk around the lake. Because it's only September, it's not TOO cold yet, but that didn't stop us from sort of snuggling up together. For warmth purposes, naturally.

So we got back at about seven, and went in seperately in case anyone was up early at saw us come in together. Not that this inspired piece of craftiness stopped tongues wagging, as the girls in my dorm had woken up to find me gone and assumed I was off shagging Harry somewhere. Virtually everyone in the school seems to hold the belief that we're constantly at it like bunnies (Lorna keeps leaving contraceptive potions in my bedside drawer). Much to my chagrin, the rumours are totally unfounded, as Harry is stupidly prejudiced against shagging his students. Plus, I don't think he ever got The Talk (which Mum gave me over the summer, horror of horrors), but I'm sure Dad (eep!) or one of my brothers (please God not Percy) would be more than happy to oblige. Although ten to one there would be death threats on one side.

Speaking of my beloved prats, I got letters from 2, 5 and 6 about Quidditch (presumably Ron passed my cry for help on).

Oh sweet Jesus, Quidditch tryouts. Just what I didn't want to think about.

Don't get me wrong, I love Quidditch, and I'm a damn good Chaser if I do say so myself. I'm chuffed beyond belief to be crowned cap.

However, I'm beyond shite at tactics. Always been crap at chess and the like, because, not unlike Harry, I tend to rush into things without thinking about them or constructing any semblance of a plan.

So, like the intelligent and resourceful young woman that I am, I went crying to Big Bros, who rose very weirdly to the occasion. Not necessarily badly. Just... weirdly.

Big Bro number two wrote:

_Ginny - read this __very__ carefully, and absorb absolutely everything._

_When you hold tryouts, your first instict will be to pick the most obviously talented fliers, which I'm sure sounds perfectly alright to you._

_But, dear Ginevra, IT IS NOT!_

_When you choose your Seeker, you want someone reasonably light, who doesn't look like they're going to grow in a hurry. If they grow, shoot 'em._

_More importantly, they can't be bossy. They need to detatch themself from the rest of a game to a certain extent (unless they're captain) if you want them to catch the snitch once in a while._

_Chasers, on the other hand, need to have their heads completely in the game, and teamwork IS the most important thing. Go for someone who gets on well with you and Demelza, because they'll need to compliment the two of you in play. You're quite an agressive player and Ron tells me Demelza's a decent all-rounder, so what you need to balance your team out is a chaser who's strong on the defensive. _

_As for a keeper, you need someone who can think on their feet (not literally) and agression's quite important - they need to give it their all when it counts. They need brilliant all-round reflexes. Chuck stuff at them and see what happens._

_Hope this helps, and good luck, Ginger Gin!_

_Love your favourite brother,_

_Charlie_

_P.S. Tell Harry if he ever lays a finger on you I'll hold him down while Bill gouges those lovely eyes out with a teaspoon._

Whilst Charlie's focused on how the hell I should go about CHOOSING my team, George's focused on the finer points of my role as a captain. It also happened to be the saddest letter I've ever read.

_Gin - _

_On recieving your letter, but one thought crossed our.. my mind. It has come to our... my attention that you're crap at motivational speaking. Therefore we... I have enclosed a personalised Pep Talk crash course, as inspired by glorious former captain of the Gryffindor team at inter-house level, O. Wood. _

_Game Number 1- Play It Cool_

_Pretend to be nonchalant, even if you do feel like throwing up copiously all over your Keeper. Say something along the lines of 'I know you're worth thirty seven of those Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff idiots (If it's Slytherin switch thirty seven for one hundred and thirty seven) and we're probably going to breeze this gig, but by some obscene fluke/administrative error/cosmic imbalance, they've made it past Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff/Slytherin. So you might want to try to score a few goals. Or not, y'know. [Unnamed seeker is probably going to catch the snitch anyway. You could probably just sit around._

_Game Number 2 - Introduce Feelgood factor_

_Team, have I ever told you that you're the most fabbity-fab people in the whole wide world and I just gosh-darned love you? It was crazy cool the way you whupped Raveclaw/Hufflepuff/Slytherin's arses the other week/lost with pride, integrity and flawless grammar, (Okay, now you've got the warm fuzzies flying freely - now take it up a notch). With your fabby-doo skillz, we can't lose, hos! (Right, now bring them back down to earth slightly) but let's not get too complacent. Show those Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff/Slytherin biotches what you're made of, foos'! Now go get 'em, you crazy kids you!_

_Game 3 - Okay, now it's time to crank up the crazy_

_(Stare at team silently for several minutes, then make a sudden move and loud noise. You may also want to work on your manical gleam for this Pep Talk). _

_We've got this far (dramatic pause) so it would be STUPID (bash fist on nearby surface - locker, bench, beater's head) to lose out now. We're a match away from the final. ONE MATCH! (Knock something heavy over) so, (reduce voice to strangled whisper) don't let me down, okay? I'm dating the defeater of the Dark Tosser and I could make him beat you up! (Last part optional)._

_Game 4 - Assuming You've Got That Far_

_(Open your mouth as little as possible to keep chances of throwing up all over your team to a minimum). _

_Just... go win, okay?_

_Hope that was helpful!_

_Your favourite brothers (sorry... brother.)_

_and George_

Oh God. Poor, poor Georgie. Fred, you bastard. What did you have to die for?

Ron's was just bizarre. It wasn't even like a proper letter, just a bag of random tactics slung together any old how.

_They might try a three man weave so you need to mark them really closely. Try flying from above them to intercept the curve of the Quaffle. Beaters should fly out of the sun. Try to hit Bludgers from a forty five degree angle raise from the opponent so that the momentum is relative to the gravity pull. Wronksi Feint - when the Seeker pulls out try doubling back on themself - one eighty turn then parallel to the ground._

_Remember Ginny - Gryffindor needs you._

_Godspeed._

GODSPEED? Quidditch does funny things to my brother's head.

So, to sum up, George and Ron were bloody useless. I always knew that Charlie was my favourite brother.

Ah well, I'm sure that Harry will give me a proper answer. Having said that, he's been as moody as hell since we got the news about Lestrange, and sometimes I have to repeat stuff three or four times to him before it registers. Of course he's fed up - he's not allowed to get involved, yet chances are that it's Harry he's after. To top it off, people keep writing into the _Prophet_ asking 'Where the Saviour of the Wizarding World is in our hour of need.' Bastards. He'd issue a damn statement if he knew what the hell people want to hear from him.

Not that I think he's too worried about the idea of Lestrange coming after him - wouldn't fancy Lestrange's chances if he did. Typically Harry, he's more worried about us having to go into hiding again, and has decided it's all his fault. God knows what elaborate thought processes he had to go through to arrive at that conclusion.

Must be a talent of him.

**Okay guys, the plot has started to develop a little bit in this chapter, but I'd like to stress now that the plot isn't really the main point of this story. What I want to do is address Ginny's various demons that have accumulated throughout the books. The most major of these is addressed in the next chapter, so stay tuned, my pretties!**


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